


it's okay boy, that's why i'm here

by humancorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John Winchester, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parent John Winchester, Basically: nothing is canon except the fact that dean was in foster care, Endgame: DeanCas and SamGabe, Episode: s09e07 Bad Boys, Fix-It of Sorts, Fuck the Canon, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Parental Bobby Singer, Single Dad AU, all else is free game, alternative childhood, but tagged so i don't forget, intro chapter only right now, pairings to come later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15437931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humancorn/pseuds/humancorn
Summary: Single Dad AU -- AU where Dean talks to Bobby about how unhappy he is with John and how worried he is about Sam’s health and Bobby files for custody. John doesn’t fight it. Bobby becomes a single dad that tries to balance hunting, his auto-repair business, and two kids. Mostly Dean-centric at the beginning.Begins during Bad Boys s09e07 and takes off from there.





	1. i'm comin' home

**Author's Note:**

> Background knowledge needed to begin:  
> If you haven't watched s09e07 Bad Boys, Dean is breifly sent into foster care for stealing bread from a convenience store because he lost the $20 John gave him for food and needed a way to feed Sam. Sonny is the caretaker of the Boy's Home he is sent to.
> 
> Small initial changes: Dean is now 14 years old when this takes place instead of 16. Sam is only 5 years younger than Dean, making him 9 years old when these initial events take place.

Diners were always a somewhat comforting presence to Dean, the same as one might feel about a childhood home. All diners seemed to have the same grease-stains on the checker-speckled linoleum floors, the same waitresses, the same countertops with rings of long forgotten coffee cups. Diners didn’t change between states like the roads did.

Which is why, when Sonny suggested that they head down to the old diner in Hurleyville, Dean was noticeably ecstatic. A welcome change of scenery from the farm he’s been working on for the past week weeks. Diner food, the pinnacle of an all-American diet - as his father used to say when he was young - was by far his favorite meal, regardless of the actual contents of said meal.

They sat in one of the back booths and Sonny ordered the special for both of them – basically the breakfast to end all breakfasts: 5 pancakes, 4 sausage links, 6 slices of bacon, 2 pieces of toast, and 4 eggs. Dean wondered for a moment if he’d be able to eat it all, but in the end decided that ‘yeah, of course he could, he was Dean fucking Winchester’.

“D-Bomb, I’ve been thinkin’. And I wanted you to know that you’re welcome here as long as you’d like.” Sonny said, sipping tentatively at his coffee, “Not many boys who do a complete 180 like you. Even less that do it in 4 weeks. You’re not getting into any trouble, you’re a huge help at the farm, and you’re doing well in school.” He paused, studying Dean’s face for a moment, a sad smile crossing his lips.

“I’m really proud of you, Dean.” Sonny’s voice faltered a bit at the end, like he was trying to contain a lot of emotions he didn’t want Dean to see. Dean did the same, choking back the sudden and surprising tears forming at the back of his eyes. He smiled, even though there was a pit of dread forming in his stomach, a distinct ache that was oddly familiar.

“Why, thanks, pops.” Dean laughed, trying to will away the ache in his throat. Their food arrived and Dean set in to his eggs, eating like he hadn’t seen food in days. Sonny looked at his for a few seconds and then began to eat his pancakes. Halfway through, just as Dean finished up his bacon, Sonny spoke up again.

“I know that you seem really loyal to your father, Dean. And I respect that. Family is important, don’t get me wrong. I just…it don’t sit right with me – the way you talk about him and the way I’ve heard him….” Sonny trailed off, looking forlornly into his eggs, “Fathers—Good Fathers don’t tell kids like you to ‘rot in jail.’”

Dean stayed silent, setting his fork down gently onto his plate. Of course they would eventually have to have _this_ conversation. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Sonny, out of all of the adults he had interacted with thus far, he was the only one who seemed to genuinely care about him and his feelings, except for, well, his mom, who, let’s face it, he didn’t remember much about, and Bobby.

“Basically, what I’m saying, Dean, is that I will fight for it if you want to stay here. I’ll do whatever is in my power to—”

“I can’t.” Dean said, a bitter chuckle forcing it’s way from his throat, “I’ve got…I’ve got a brother that I need to take care of. I can’t just abandon him.”

“We could bring him here.”

“No, it would just be easier to stay, y’know? He’s young and taking him away from his dad at that age—” Dean sighed, flashes of memories of his mother playing in his head.

“Do you have anyone else? Any aunts, uncles, relatives, that could take you in?” Sonny asked, his breakfast special all but forgotten on the diner table.

“We’ve got an uncle…kinda. Not blood related, but…yeah.” Dean said, guilt rising like bile in his throat. It felt like he was betraying some sort of secret trust he had with his father.

“Do you know his number?” Sonny asked.

“Yeah, I just…if dad finds out…he probably won’t be happy.” He didn’t add in the ‘a _nd it’s my fault because I lost all of our money in the first place, it’s my fault, my fault, my fault. I don’t deserve this.’_

“Dean,” Sonny said, clearly wanting him to meet his eye, and Dean obliged, “Don’t worry. If things get bad, if you don’t feel safe, I’ll come get you myself. And we can bring your brother too. Promise.”

Dean looked down at his plate, his sausage growing colder by the minute.

“Alright.” Dean said, voice uncharacteristically soft, “Alright. We’ll call Bobby.” Dean felt like he was sealing his fate in that moment, putting nails in his coffin, one by one by one. But Sonny smiled at him, and part of Dean actually believed that maybe, just maybe, this could all work out in his favor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby comes to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta-ed, we die like men.

On some level, Dean expected Bobby to immediately hang up or call John – but Sonny just looked so goddamn hopeful that Dean bit the bullet and dialed his number. In the end, Dean had decided to make the call himself rather than asking Sonny to buffer it for him – figured hearing Bobby’s voice would be better than not and possibly being able to ask him if he had Sam, even better.

  
The phone rang, once, twice, and Bobby picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was rougher than Dean remembered. He hesitated for a moment, took in a deep breath.

“Hey, Bobby.” Dean started, only to be immediately cut off by Bobby nearly shouting into the phone.

“Dean??!!” A loud crash sounded in the background and Dean vaguely wondered if he’d interrupted him in the middle of a hunt. “Where have you been, boy? We’ve been worried sick!”

Dean let out the breath he’d been holding in and chuckled, low in his throat. Of course. “I’m in New York. I’m in…a boy’s home in New York.” He could hear loud rustling on the other end of the phone.

“A boy’s home?” His tone was noticeably angry. Dean closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Oh God, this was a bad idea. His mind was running through every possible way he could get out of this, trying to figure out which one would have the least amount of collateral damage. Maybe he could laugh it off? Say he was just calling in to check on Sam? But what if Sam wasn’t there? What if—“Are you still there, Dean?” Bobby asked and Dean swallowed, feeling the anxiety rise into his chest.

“Yeah,” He said, “I’m still here.”

“Give me the address.” Bobby said, and Dean absolutely blanked. Where was he again? He couldn’t think. His eyes met Sonny’s, and luckily he seemed to understand, seemed to know the look of panic in Dean’s eye. Sonny smiled at him and ruffled his hair as he wrote it down on a piece of paper in front of him, handing it off to Dean once he’d finished.

“16674 Cleveland Avenue, Hurleyville, New York.” Dean said.

“I’ll be there in the morning. Stay put.” Bobby said, pausing for a moment, “And stay safe, will ya?”

“Yeah. I will,” Dean said, handing the phone back over to Sonny as he heard the line go dead. “He’ll be here in the morning.”

Dean stared at his lap, his palms hot and sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans. He could hear Sonny shuffling in the chair across from him, but he didn’t look up -- didn’t want to see the look in his eyes. Pity. If there was one emotion he hated more than anything else? Pity. Before Sonny could say anything, Dean coughed and stood up, heading off to bed.

\------------

Dean woke to the distinct and familiar sound of a slightly disjointed muffler on an old, beaten down truck. It was 6am. The faint sound of gravel crunching under tires under the roar of an engine and Dean felt...at ease, for once. There was a light on in the hallway and the shuffle of slippers moving down toward the stairs, and Dean wasn’t sure if he should get up and meet them or let them be for a while. Feign being asleep until Sonny or Bobby came to wake him and take him away. Back to South Dakota, back to the impala, back to Sam, but also back to John. He squeezed his eyes shut and took in a deep breath. Slowly, he tried to relax his muscles and sink into the bed, savoring the feel of a decent mattress, of sheets that smelled like something other than smoke and ammonia.

In the end, he drifted back off. He woke again, this time to the smell of bacon and maple mixing in the air. Dean checked the clock and all but ran off to the shower. 9am. If he rushed, he could make it to school in time to get to 3rd period. Maybe the front desk lady would give him a little slack and not write him up for being late and--oh, yeah. That’s right. It didn’t matter anymore. Dean slumped against the wall of the shower, hot water pittering on his back as he took his head in his hands and laughed. Oh, fuck, he thought, Bobby. He’s probably been waiting for me to get my ass down there for hours. Quickly, he finished up and threw some clothes on, packing all of his things up as he went. It had been a few months since he’d last done this and he was admittedly a bit rusty--usually he’d’ve been able to throw his bags together in 10 minutes. Every second that ticked past 10 minutes felt like a prick in his skin, bile rising up into his esophagus and taking over his throat. It had been 20 minutes when he finally got everything together, slung his duffel over his shoulder, and headed down the stairs. Eyes lingering on the portraits and pictures clinging to the walls of the stairwell, Dean rounded the corner and was met with, well, not something he expected.

Bobby was there, sat comfortably at the kitchen table, plate of breakfast in front of him. He wore the same gruff expression that he always did when dealing with strangers, but it seemed to be softer than usual. The hard lines of stress were absent on his forehead, and Dean let out a breath he was unaware that he was holding.

“Dean,” Sonny said, a gentle smile on his face, “I made breakfast to celebrate. Want some?”

“Yeah.” Dean said. He didn’t move, even when Sonny gestured for him to take a seat at the table. Bobby’s eyes were on him now, calculating and sharp and sad? Carefully, Dean pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and flopped down into it. Bobby took a swig of his coffee and cleared his throat.

“Sonny was tellin’ me that you’ve got somethin important going on in a few days. Said he thought you’d like to stick around for it.” Bobby cupped his hands around the coffee cup and stared down into the liquid, “Is that true?” Dean tried to say something, tried to think of something that would sound alright and make everything better in this moment. But instead? He kept his mouth shut, eyes locked on the table, taking in the polished wood, counting the rings of life of a tree that no longer stood. His grip on his duffel bag tightened. He was ready.

“I’m gonna stick around for a few days, probably get a motel room in town.” Bobby said, scratching absently at his beard, “Told Rufus I probably wouldn’t be back for a few days anyway.”

“Is Sammy good?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, ya idjit. He’s alright. Rufus is lookin after him at the house.” Bobby said.

They ate breakfast mostly in silence, with Sonny interrupting a few times to catch Bobby up on things that had happened with Dean since he’d been there.


End file.
